


Playing God

by Erinwolf1997



Category: Paramore
Genre: Angst, Gen, Kidnapping, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-13
Updated: 2011-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:09:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2331311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erinwolf1997/pseuds/Erinwolf1997
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short songfic to Playing God I wrote ages ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing God

     I shut off the engine, staring blankly into space. Twitted thoughts floated in my head, and I pushed them away as I got out of the car.  
  
     A bouquet of fake flowers in my hand, I walked down the driveway. Dead leaves crunched under my feet, and I glanced down at the flowers.  
  
     They were frail and their looks deceived, just like the ones they are meant to be given to.  
  
     I stopped at the door to the storm cellar and stepped inside, making my way down the stairs in my black and red plaid dress.  
  
     My prisoners were still sitting on the cold concrete floor, securely bound together with an old rope. Light shined on their guilty faces.  
  
     I threw the flowers against the wall. They were as dead as they ever would be.  
  
     With a light bulb dangling and swaying above, I yelled at the shadowed figures.  
  
     "Next time you point a finger, I swear, I'll," I paused, looking for words, "I'll break it off!"  
  
     My short wavy hair flicked across my face from the aggression I had used. It was pink, the color of innocence. I continued yelling similar things at them, watching them sulk.  
  
     While I ranted at all the things they'd ever done to me, I remembered the pictures. The ones from years ago, when we were all still friends.  
  
     I had picked up a magnifying glass and stared through it, in my head judging them for all they were worth, nothing.  
  
     Still yelling as I left the room, I said, "Next time you point a finger, I'll point you to the mirror!"  
  
     I stomped up the stairs and shut the door loudly behind me, tears threatening at my eyes.  
  
    I poured the tea carefully into the cups, wearing innocence on my face as I walked into the other room with them on a tray. I smiled, putting it down. I didn't want anyone getting suspicious.  
   
     We smiled and laughed together, as good friends do. My face went blank as my eyes caught the shears across the room.  
  
     I remembered the ones in the basement, looking up, wondering what I was going to do to them.  
  
     I glanced around the room, cruelly fantasizing that my prisoners were the ones at the table, drinking the tea and then quickly passing out, due to the effect of the poison I had poured along with it.  
  
     My guests then left, and I made sure they were long gone before I clicked the door closed.  
  
     I went back down to the basement after that, this time with a magnifying glass. I yelled at them more, glaring through it.  
  
     With an overwhelming hatred pulsing through my veins, I ran upstairs, stopping in the guest bedroom where my mirror and empty picture frames hung.  
  
     My expression in the reflection of the mirror looked like a girl, both somewhat sorry, and enraged at the same time, like one that had purposefully broken a window just for attention.  
  
     I yelled at myself in the mirror, and I thought of the tea spilled on the table after I poisoned them. It was like a puddle of blood..  
  
     "This is the last second chance!" I yelled, wondering if they could hear me.  
  
     "I'm half as good as it gets!"  
  
     As I yelled, I thought I could hear his voice singing, "I'll point you to the mirror."  
  
     Thinking I'd gone crazy, I yelled more nonsense into the mirror.  
  
     "I'm on both sides of the fence!"  
  
     A mere echo now, but I could still hear it.  
  
     "I'll point you to the mirror."  
  
     I ran out of the room, still yelling.  
  
     "Without a hint of regret, I'll hold you to it!"  
  
     I fell to the floor, tears now streaming down my face.  
  
     I imagined going down there, setting them free for a while, to do the things we used to do, play music.  
  
     I imagined the things I had just yelled at myself, turned into a song.  
  
     But then, in the end, like always, I'd just tie them back up.  
  
     I would wrap that same rope around them, and would pull them up until they could finally see daylight, but then shut the door on their petrified faces. Lock them back in the dark.

  
     I rolled over on the floor, tears still leaking through my hands, just like a bleeding wound.


End file.
